


Clarification

by abundantlyqueer



Category: Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-10-02
Updated: 2003-10-02
Packaged: 2017-10-13 01:16:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/131178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/abundantlyqueer/pseuds/abundantlyqueer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Don't look man," Orli laughs. "I can't say any of this if you're looking at me -- I'll just feel like a dick."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Clarification

Tonight, Viggo's temporary home is an island of light and noise and people, surrounded by the dark and silence and stillness of the countryside.  
Radiant yellow light streams from the undraped windows on all sides of the single-story house, crosses the smooth gray wood of the porch decking, and runs out among the blades of velvet grass and the unfocused fluttering of night insects. The clamor of voices -- talking, laughing, declaiming script lines -- and the clink of glasses and the clatter of shoes on the bare wooden floors makes a dense knot of noise inside the house.  
Only stray tatters of sound drift out to the porch steps, where Viggo sits nursing an inch of red wine in a glass and wondering when this party's going to break up. He glances at his watch, turning his wrist to catch the light from the open kitchen door. It's barely after midnight. With the treasure of a three-day break in filming to look forward to, no one's going to feel like leaving any time soon.  
Viggo lifts his glass, inhaling the aroma of wine warmed to blood heat. He doesn't begrudge the use of his house: on any other movie, this would be a wrap party. On this movie, it's an excuse to mark the tear-down of one colossal exterior set, and gather resolve for the move to the next one.  
"Oh man, I am so fucking drunk," Orli crows from the kitchen, his voice ragged from laughter and cigarette smoke.  
He steps out onto the porch, his bare feet silent on the wood but the ice in his glass chiming crisply. He drops heavily onto the step two above Viggo's and leans back. Viggo, sitting hunched forward with his elbows on his knees, turns his head slightly and considers the fraying knees of Orli's jeans. His gaze drifts down, to where the tattered denim meets bare skin. The front of Orli's left foot is mottled red-black from a stuntman's misstep on rough, slippery ground.  
Orli sets his glass down and retrieves the cigarette packet tucked into the sleeve of his tee shirt.  
"Man, the air out here's nice," he husks, slouching even lower to hook his lighter out of his jeans pocket. "Clean, y'know?"  
Viggo can't help an ironic smile when this remark is followed by the snick of flint on steel and a breathy exhalation of smoke.  
"So, Viggo, look, I really wanted to talk to you about something," Orli announces.  
Viggo shifts, making to glance over his shoulder to judge Orli's expression, but Orli abruptly leans forward and reaches out, setting his palm and fingers against the side of Viggo's face and keeping it turned away.  
"Don't look man," Orli laughs. "I can't say any of this if you're looking at me -- I'll just feel like a dick."  
Viggo remains obediently frozen under Orli's touch, staring straight down at the ground and trying to figure out how and why his world is suddenly sliding out of control. He hears the tiny crinkle of burning tobacco and the minute click of Orli's lips parting around the cigarette, and when Orli starts talking the words come out on a ruffling of smoke overlaid by a rawer smell of spirits.  
"I just wanted to tell you -- I mean -- fuck, I know I don't know anything, y'know? Elijah's like four years younger than me and the guy's done fucking everything, and I'm just -- naive -- y'know?" Orli says rapidly.  
Viggo would sell his soul for a drink, a real drink, two inches of dark amber whiskey in a thick glass, with a single chunk of ice unraveling wisps of water into the spirit.  
"But, I mean, I feel like I know what I want, right?" Orli goes on, his fingers dropping away from the side of Viggo's face and rubbing at the nonexistent hair beside his own ear. "You can totally want something you've never had -- that's kinda the point, right?"  
Viggo holds his breath, hoping to alleviate the heat that prickles on the tip of his tongue at each inhalation of smoke and sugary rum. He ghosts his head around enough to watch Orli from the corner of his eye.  
"And, y'know, I don't wanna be the kind of person who can't just say what they feel. I mean, I think it's really important in this business to stay genuine … and I'm just thinking all the time about the stuff I wanna say to you, and I know I should just say it."  
Viggo's heart is pounding from lack of oxygen or some damn thing, and this can't happen, isn't going to happen, because Viggo won't let it. He's spent his entire career avoiding exactly this kind of insanity, and he's not going falter now.  
"I've just never felt this way, y'know? I learnt so much from you - not just about the work, about how to be. And - we both know I wouldn't have made it through the last six weeks if you hadn't - encouraged me. I know I was kind of a pain there for a while, but - I feel like I've finally grown up. Like you gave me something, and it's in me now, and I'm just not scared anymore. Of anything. I know I can do this now, no matter what the rest of the shoot is like. You won't have to hold me together anymore, I'm good."  
Viggo's mouth moves but nothing comes out, and a thought arcs across his consciousness with the clarity of physical pain: where is there left for Orli to go when he makes love? Does he look just like this, eyes wide and lips parted and everything - everything - on his breath? If so, that makes his easy vulnerability a kind of inverted reticence; there's nothing left to give away … Orli tells no secrets because he has no secrets. Or, does he have a second soul he shows only to the very few?  
"I just wanted to say it, that's all," Orli murmurs.  
He leans forward onto his own lap, fingers drumming lightly on his unbruised foot, and looks directly at Viggo.  
Silence. Orli's still looking, not waiting or worrying or even expecting Viggo to react, just looking.  
"Orli! Dude! It's gonna be so great," Elijah yells, exploding out of the kitchen door and skittering stumbling slipping down the steps to drop in a hard heap next to Orli.  
Orli's laughing already, wriggling like a fish to make enough room for Elijah to sit. Elijah purses his lips comically and smacks a pantomime kiss onto Orli's cheek, and Orli's mouth curls and his eyes flip closed for just a second.  
"There's this place, way the fuck up in the mountains that Peter knows about -- they're gonna chopper us up there -- with the canoes," Elijah says in a rush, grinning and wringing his hands in the mess of his own hair.  
"Fuckin' wicked," Orli howls, and they both jump up and scramble over the steps and back into the house.  
Viggo lets go of the shuddering breath he's been holding for what feels like hours, and digs his fingers into the limp fall of his hair, pressing hard to stop the bones of his skull from grinding each other to pieces.


End file.
